I’m not fishing for small fish
I’m casting my net for you
When I whistle three times
Throw your net and run.
I would like to know
Where you hurt
Is it from the trunk of your heart
Or from the end of your eyelashes.
A while ago when it was your time
You were like a fast machine
Now that time is no longer yours
You are like a shivering chick.
Joining the Military
I will give you a Care package
Maybe even three rolls of kisses
But be careful not to open it
Until you arrive in San Francisco.
Stop crying, my mother
Wipe away your tears
Because it won’t be long
Before your son will return.
About this poem
These short poems, representing Guam, are part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.